Sweet Poison
by November Scorpio
Summary: Nobody ever said being beautiful was easy, that I am sure of. But we escape it all. Enter our world, where the boys are gorgeous and everyone wakes up in someone else’s bed. Rated T for strong language.
1. My Little Fish

_**Sweet Poison**_

_**--**_

_**Fuller Summary: Nobody ever said being beautiful was easy, that I am sure of. Every movement is judged, every action scrutinized, every word picked apart. But we escape it all. Enter our world, where the boys are gorgeous and everyone wakes up in someone else's bed. New York City.**_

_**--**_

_My wool stockings itched as I looked at the overarching buildings up ahead. I took another breath, just as my therapist back home told me. It was uncharacteristically cold for early September. That or it was just me. It was 95__° back home. Pain wrung my heart again, though I had stopped crying weeks ago. But seriously, what did you expect? Here I was, wearing __pink butterfly clips _for God's sake, with a five year old JanSport backpack, a trout in a sea of koi fish. That is if I had gills. But you can still see the metaphor. I took a tentative step up the marble steps, traipsing around the other girls, wearing the same uniform, except we were drastically different. Jewelled butterfly barrettes instead of plastic ones, and Prada bags instead of faded orange and blue backpacks. I finally reached the top step, where the big glass and metal door waited. I gave a tug, but it wouldn't give. I tugged again, this time harder. I heard tittering and I blushed red all the way to my scalp. I must've looked like a tomato. The girls giggling started texting, faster than I could see, or ever type. How did they do that? I saw snatches of conversation between phones, and discreetly peeked over the red-headed girl's shoulder. I saw 'pink+plastictrashy'. I frowned. Bitch. I heard a groan and a small cough. I saw the whole pack of them staring at me. The brunette-clearly the leader- glared at me condescendingly. She made a 'move along' gesture and rolled her eyes and stood up, the whole group of them turning and staring at me, accusations written all over their faces.

"The doors don't open until eight. Try to remember, m'kay?" She smiled falsely and the rest of them flounced-I really am not kidding you-away. Whoa, pms much?

"Don't mind them. They've got their heads up their asses." I turned to be greeted by a girl with dark blonde hair, with wild pink strips. She wore the regulation uniform, but on her it seemed more…bad-assy? Is that even a word? I looked her up and down.

"Oh." I squeaked out. Wow, was I from Suburbia or what? But she only smiled and lit up. She took a puff, then roll the cigarette between her fingers. She stuck out her very beskullringed- hand, waiting to shake.

"I'm Layne Abley." I took her hand, and felt the cold metal of the rings brush my palm.

--

The doors finally opened at eight, when a man in black pants and pink dress-shirt unlocked it for me. I heard some girls titter behind their palms, and turned. It was those girls again, laughing. I hunched my shoulders and ducked into an alcove with a drinking fountain. I waited until they passed, pretending to take a drink, all the while watching them out of my peripheral vision. They walked in perfect step down the large white corridor, pausing to air kiss friends and chat. I walked along, hurrying past them as they talked to a girl whom I heard named Olivia. I finally found my destination, the Administration office. I opened the door, stopping in front of the secretary's office. She was a severe looking woman, sipping black coffee out of a Starbucks mug. I wonder if that's where she got her bitterness from. She looked up from her computer screen.

"May I help you?" she asked, as if I was imposing in whatever she was formerly engaged in. I swallowed.

"Hi. Um… I'm Claire Lyons; I have meeting with a Miss…Adeel? The secretary put on a pair of reading glasses and typed into her keyboard. After a small 'ping' she rolled her chair to face me.

"She'll see you in a minute," she rolled and grabbed a piece of paper from a printer. "Here's your schedule, locker assignment and combination." she turned back to her computer, our time obviously up. I turned around the lobby, the only sound coming from the filter in a fish tank. I strode across the room to the appropriate office. I turned the knob. I saw a small stout cheery woman behind a desk. Funny, I was expecting the Spanish Inquisition. I cleared my throat. She looked up and smiled cheerily at me.

"Oh hello," she began, still smiling. "You must be Claire. Take a seat." she gestured towards a plush easy chair. Dropping my backpack on the floor, I crossed my legs, trying to look like a professional. I looked around her office. It was very open , with two windows behind her desk, letting in a lot of light. Posters about emotional well being hung in odd places, and a vase of carnations was placed next to a clear crystal bowl of Hershey's Kisses on her desk.

"So," she began "I'm the guidance counselor, Miss Adeel. You can call me Brenda, everybody does.

"Claire, you're new here, and I want you to know Octavian Day High is like a family, so don't be afraid to talk to us about anything that's on your mind. We'll always listen.

"We pride ourselves on indivualism here at Octavian Day, but we do have a few rules." she paused for a moment and unwrapped a piece of candy.

"If you miss two classes without a proper excuse-excluding sickness or injuries of course- in a row, it will be considered as 'hooky' and you _will _receive detention. Second, bring an iPod or cell phone into school, it will be confiscated unless you have direct permission by a teacher to use it. The rest are obvious, no drinking, no drugs, no weapons, no smoking anywhere on campus. Break any of _those _rules and you can receive suspension or indefinite expulsion. Do you understand this Claire?" I immediately nodded my head enthusiastically.

"Good. Now, you do get a free period, but do not abuse this privilege or it will be taken away. Any student with a failing grade of a D- or lower will have their free period replaced wit a supervised study hall. So keep your grades up, don't back your teacher, and we'll be all good." She smiled at me. She really was nice after all. I stood up to go. It was eight-fifteen. I had first period. Brenda stood as well and we shook hands.

"Welcome to Octavian Day High School Miss Lyons."

--

"So…what kind of party is this again?" I asked, as Layne flung her black Rolling Stones back into a corner. I was actually on my back. During the course of the day, I had successfully avoided Massie's 'Pretty Committee' all day. I had even scored an invite to a party via Layne during Algebra II. Yep, so far, sophomore year at ODH was going well. On her ceiling, Layne had posted concert memorabilia and posters onto every available inch. Classic bands like the Beatles stood next to bands I, a suburban girl, had never heard of. Like The Cure, Moral Hazard, and Madness. Though I did obviously recognized Queen and Jimi Hendrix. Nobody could miss Freddy, not even me. I rolled on my stomach until I faced Layne, who was scouting her closet for clothing.

"You could say it's a raver. I'm sure some chicks from school'l come. Hope the guys come. Otherwise, there's almost no point."

"Why's that?" I snatched up a piece of Bubblicious from her nightstand. The sour taste crippled me. I sat on her plain white bed, looking at her toss options at me. She turned and gave me a 'duh' look.

"Cause there's no other reason for me to have be around those asshats from our school for more than a few hours more than I have too." I laughed at this. Layne finally pulled out a shockingly yellow tube dress, and promptly flung it on her white bedspread. She pulled out a thick orange belt, yellow knee highs, and an equally bright pair of high heeled pumps. I only laughed at her selections. She looked at me, as she unbuttoned her school oxford.

"What?" she asked me. I looked at her, a smile playing at my lips.

"You're gonna look like a fucking highlighter." I advised giggling. She raised eyebrows, but she still smiled at me.

"At least I'll stand out."

"This is true," I mused ruefully. I looked at her rather expansive closet, with all her clothes sorted by color content. She turned and pulled on her stockings, and looked at me.

"So, what're _you_ gonna wear?" she interrogated. I grimaced. I hadn't actually though of that. After school I had just called my mom and dad to tell them I was going to hang out at Layne's than after we do the ridiculous amount of homework we already had, watch movies. I had been told to be back by curfew, midnight. It was already seven now, and I was still in uniform.

"There's a flaw," I replied. "I've got no clothes." Layne looked at me dubiously.

"Like Hell you don't," she snorted 'Borrow mine. God knows I got scads of them." She waved me away, giving me a golden key to couture paradise. I was as giddy as a kid in a candy store. I tore into Layne's collection. I settled on a little robin's egg blue number with red beads. It was flashy enough without looking trashy. But Layne insisted I wear tights before I looked like 'Pam Anderson sans the boobs.' I almost died laughing, even it was to my expense. So, on with the tights I went. After hailing a cab, we drove down a series of tall glamorous skyscraping apartment buildings. I, of course, ogled them like a tourist. We stopped in front of one of the taller buildings. The doorman held it for us with a nod.

"This is where they're having a rager?" I asked, confused. Layne giggled and called for an elevator

"Looks can be deceiving."

--

And they were. The party was in full swing when we got there. Couples were grinding in the expansive front room, with other people chatting to the side with mystery red cups. I was pushed and shoved and almost fell into a preppy brunette. I swear I'm going to fall over. I looked at Layne who was chatting with two twin-like girls. She motioned for me to come over.

"This is Meena!" she shouted over the bass. "And this is Heather!" she pointed to the other. They waved.

"Hi," they chorused. I returned the favor. Layne grabbed my arm

"I'm gonna go grab a drink." she muttered into my ear, and took off, weaving between people.

"Layne!" I shouted, lost. Meena and Heather were already talking to a skater guy, and I turned, colliding with a guy, spilling his drink on his shirt.

"Shit!" he cursed.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" I apologized, trying help. I looked at him, he had wavy blonde hair and his eyes were blue…and green. I stared at him.

"Um, it's okay y'know. It' s no biggie." I broke eye contact with him and reddened, which I hoped he couldn't see.

"I'm Cam." he introduced himself.

"Claire." I replied. He tossed his cup away.

"Wanna dance?" he asked idly. Suddenly, a sharp jab in the elbows alerted me of someone's presence. Layne carried two cups and handed me one.

"Drink up." she commanded. I did, and almost gagged. I sputtered and choked on the foul beer.

"That's disgusting!" I shouted at her. Cam threw his head back and laughed. "I told Kemp not to buy the shitty beer!" he laughed. Disgusted, I put the cup on a nearby table.

"Wanna dance?" he asked again. I nodded. Layne was gone, but I took his hand and we took to the 'floor'. Two guys stood at the makeshift DJ booth, sifting through records. Cam put his hands on my waist, and I threw my arms in the air.

"so, where ya from?!" I heard him yell.

"Orlando!" I yelled back, pulsating with the beat of the rap music.

"Where in Orlando?!" he shot back.

"Lake Buena Vista! In a small place called Winter Park! Very suburban!" I shouted.

"Sounds cool! I'm not from New York originally either!" he cried.

"Where 'ya from?!" I asked, my voice beginning to get hoarse.

"I'm from Arlington Virginia! My dad got a transfer about a year ago!" The music gave way to a slower number, but people still kept at the moshiness of their pit. I felt my phone ring, in the pocket of my dress. It was my mom.

"I have to take this. Sorry!" I apologized. I left him looking confused as ever. I weaved around people kissing and dancing, finally finding a bathroom. Two people were making out in the bathtub, but I ignored them. I flipped open my Razr.

"Hello?"

"Honey, it's mom. Listen, I think you should be getting home soon. It is a school night. It's already eleven thirty." Fuck, was it already that late? How long had that cab ride been?

"Um, okay mom. I'll get a cab." I acquiesced.

"Good. But, honey, is that…rap music I hear?" Shit! I had to think fast.

"Uh, we're watching _Fast and Furious_." I lied.

"Oh, okay. Well, get home safely, okay?"

"I will." I shut off my phone and sighed. I left the bathroom and searched for Layne. I saw her kissing a boy I didn't recognize.

"Layne?" I tapped her on the shoulder blade. She turned, her breath reeking of booze.

"Oh Claiiirrreeeee," She slurred. "I thought you were dancing with your _boyfrieennddd_!" I realized she was totally trashed.

"What? No! Layne, I need to borrow some cash. I gotta go home." Layne looked at me with her huge eyes.

"Oh, yeahh, sure. That's what friends do, 'cuase we're friends! Ha!" she grabbed my wrist and whispered in my ear. "Don't get eaten alive by sharks, my little fish." She gave me two twenties. "G'bye fish." she called as I left.

--

I got home at eleven forty-five. Mom had left the door unlocked for me. I carefully folded up my borrowed clothes and put them under my bed, where I knew my mom wouldn't look. I retreated into my bed, and sighed at the dark ceiling. New York sure looked like it was shaping up to be interesting…

**--**

**Disc.: I own nothing you recognize.**


	2. My Nirvana

_**Sweet Poison**_

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story. Thanks for the support!**

_**--**_

Layne didn't come to school the next day. I arrived at school at seven fifty, but she wasn't there, waiting on the steps like yesterday. I sat, waiting for her, near where I saw her yesterday. She wasn't there by seven fifty-five. After a while I saw I had a companion. It was Meena, one of the girls from the party.

"Hey," she waved. She seemed friendly enough. I waved back.

"Hey, Meena, do you happen to have Layne's number?" Meena nodded and dug into her turquoise bag, until she pulled out her EnV. She gave me her number, and I entered it into my address book. The phone rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Layne?" I asked.

"Ugh, not so loud, please. Who is this?" I could hear Layne mumble.

"It's Claire. Where are you, why aren't you at school?" I heard a muffled sound in the ground, that sounded like fabric. She must still be in bed, nursing her hangover.

"Claire, I feel like shit. I'm in no mood to go to school." I scowled.

"That's what happens when you get plastered." I chastised. I heard her groan.

"Look," I advised "Take some Advil, drink some water and take a vitamin." repeating my aunt Stacey's advice. It was the only worthwhile thing I had learned from her. "Then get your ass to school." I hung up on her. I put my phone away.

"Sounds like your friend's pretty hung-over." I heard a new voice say behind me. I swiveled and saw a blonde girl with a David Beckham bag speaking to me. I vaguely recognized her from the gang of girls known as the 'Pretty Committee'. She sat down in the spot Meena had been sitting a few minutes ago. She smiled.

"Kristen Gregory." I smiled backed .Kristen seemed genuine, unlike some of the other girls I had seen so far. I introduced myself. And for the few minutes before eight I found we had a lot in common. We both loved soccer, thought the Euro 2008 Final was epic, came from the depths of Suburbia, and felt the same thing about vegemite-it was disgusting. I also found out there were open practices for the girl's soccer team. I thought about stopping by. But soon, Ms Adeel came and unlocked the front door.

--

Today was the first practice for the ODH's soccer team, the Athenians. It turns out Kristen was the captain, which put me at ease a bit. I had played some soccer when I was younger, sure, but never played on a school team before. And it didn't help I had an audience. The entire boy's soccer team from ODH's brother school, Briarwood Day, was watching the try-outs. I was nervous, but pulled up my new soccer socks and ran out on the field. I heard my name and saw Kristen jogging out towards me.

"Hey!" she called as she ran over. I jogged over to meet her.

"Glad you could come."

I nodded. "Me too. Looks like you've got a lot of hopefuls." She looked at the wannabes, all of them passing to each other, or shooting at the empty goal.

"Yeah, but some of them aren't worth shit." I looked over to where she was staring, and saw she was right. Some weren't all that great, but I was sure I'd be the same way too. I nodded anyway.

"We're short our goalie from last year. She graduated. We've got two lined up, together they're one passable goalie." she joked. I laughed as required, even if I didn't feel it.

"Well, come on. Let's get this over with."

--

Turns out, I suck at passing. I tried to remember to visualize where the person was going to be, but always passed it to where they were. Obviously the coach wasn't too pleased. But I was better at stopping balls. Unfortunately for me, it was with my body. But it seemed the coach had other plans for me. She put me in goal, and I stopped three quarters of the balls that came my way. Yippee. I only wish I wasn't sore. Right now, I was icing my shin, where I was hit, and then twisted my ankle funny. The coach said it was nothing rest and ice couldn't fix. I counted myself lucky. A shadow passed over my calf, and saw it the same boy from the party last night.

"Um, hey?" he smiled awkwardly.

"Hi. Uh, Cam right?" I replied cordially. He nodded.

"What'cha do to your shin?" he remarked, seeing the ice.

"Oh, I got hit and twisted my ankle," I laughed nervously "I'm honestly more worried about my ankle, But I'm sure I'll be okay." He sat down beside me, and peered at the wreck that was my shin and ankle.

"Shit, that looks like it hurt." I laughed low.

"It did." we sat in awkward silence until he broke it.

"So, are you the goalie permanently?" I shook my head

"I dunno. It's the coach's call. What are you?"

" Left middie, sometime forward. I'm left footed, so it's easier for me." I whistled.

"You don't meet many left footed people. Oh- hey practice is over." It was. I could se girls coming off the field, some running to meet their boyfriends, others walking slowly.

"Hey," he started. "Wanna meet some of my friends?" I nodded slowly.

"Sure," He helped me up and I tested my ankle by putting some weight on it. It hurt, but it was nothing I couldn't ignore. I hobbled over to a spot on the bleachers where four girls and a few guys were having a conversation. My heart sank when I realized it was Massie's Pretty Committee. But I followed Cam anyway, to where the four guys and Massie's clique were sitting. I licked my dry lips, and could almost feel the sweat beginning to bead on my palms. But I smiled anyway.

"Guys, this is Claire." he introduced.

"Hi," I squeaked out.

"That's Derrick," a shaggy-haired boy waved. "That's Kemp," The black-haired boy winked at me. " Josh," The preppier boy smiled. "And lastly, that's Chris."

"Hey." he responded.

"And you know Massie, Alicia and Dylan." They smiled. I saw Dylan lean over and whisper something in Massie's ear. She looked at Cam, me and giggled. My stomach turned.

"So, Cam, are you coming to D's party on Saturday?" Massie asked, batting her eyes coyly. Cam shrugged.

"Sure. I'll come. Where's it again?" Massie seemed almost put off about his cavalier attitude.

"CluB-52." she answered. She finally looked me.

"By the way Clara, you should come too." She stood up "Well, I gotta go. Girls?" the rest, including Kristen got up and said good-bye. The rest of the guys stood up from the bleachers and left.

--

"So…What is CluB-52 exactly?" I asked Layne as I popped some of my Orbit. I had learned never to trust Layne's super sour gum. She flipped over on her stomach on her bed, smooshing her math textbook.

"It's a night club. It was owned some 80's groupie. Anyway, it's actually really hot right. I wonder how Dylan managed to reserve it…" I shrugged my shoulders. I was actually on the floor, writing my essay for World History class about World War II.

"What should I wear?" I wondered aloud. Layne sat up,

"Okay, that's done with. What' were you saying Claire?" I rolled my eyes

"I was asking 'what should I wear?'."

Layne pushed herself off of her bed, and opened her closet.

"What were you thinking on wearing?" she asked. I shrugged.

"I dunno. A miniskirt?" Layne scrutinized her closet. She picked out a purple halter dress.

"What about this?" She held it up for me to see. It was pretty enough, with a little lace on the neck-line. I liked it.

"Yeah, it's pretty. It's a pretty color. Where'd you get it?"

"My mom got it for me at Bloomindales last month. I've never worn it." She tossed the dress onto the bed. I got up and peeked inside the neckline and fished out the tag. I almost dropped it. 750! Seven. Hundred. And fifty. Dollars. Who would pay that much for a fucking dress?! Even if it is _adorable, _seven hundred fifty is ridiculous. I asked Layne why.

"Here's why," she explained "When you pay for designer clothing, you're also paying for _the icon _of the clothes. Like the 'G' in Gucci, or the 'C' in Coach."

"Oh." I understood it a little bit more. I dug inside to find the tag. I looked at the brand. It was a Dolce and Gabbana dress. The price made more sense now.

"You can have the dress for the party.," I heard Layne saying. "Oh, speaking of which, here's your clothes back." She handed me my uniform, folded and clean.

"The maid washed them." she giggled. "She washes everything of mine."

"Thanks. I'll get your dress and shoes back to you." Layne sighed.

"Keep it. I've got plenty." My eyes widened.

"Seriously?"

--

I stood outside of CluB-52. They were two bulky men standing outside of the door, keeping people uninvited out. I bit my lip and walked up to one.

"Name?" the one bodyguard asked.

"Claire. Lyons." I choked out of nervousness. He flipped through the pages on a clipboard. He took a pen, and scribbled something. Then he lifted the velvet rope to the open doors.

"Enjoy the party."

"Um… Thank you?" I asked before I was pushed in by a current of glamorously dressed people. Luckily, I blended right in, thanks to my couture godmother. Girls in sky high heels drank pomegranate martinis out of delicate glasses. Strobe lights blinded me, and I blinked, trying to rid my eyes of the spots. Steps led to a loft, and a colorful blend of couture and jewelry swirled. Guys pushed each others, egging each other on to ask out one of the already trashed girls. Couples danced to high pulsing techno, and the place seemed like a foreign universe. I bit my thumbnail, an old nervous habit I thought I had already broken. I walked up to the loft slowly, avoiding drinking swerving towards me. I finally ascended to the upper level. I saw large red couches in the Middle eastern style, with mosquito nets and netting forming a tent. And in the largest, sat Massie, Dylan, Kristen and Alicia. My throat locked, and I could almost taste the metallic tinge of pennies. I remembered the harsh words from my first day. I was about to turn and go back downstairs when Kristen spotted me.

"Claire!" she called. Damn, caught. I smiled anyway and turned.

"Kristen, hey!" I walked over, straight into the lion's den. Massie was content as a cat waiting for me- the incredibly stupid canary- to walk over to be her dinner. I stood, noticing there were no available cushions.

"Hey you guys." they gave similar responses.

"So, um Dylan, how is it you got this place for your party?" Massie laughed.

"Ehmah_Gawd_, that is just _too cute_! She doesn't know!"

"Know what?' I asked, feeling incredibly stupid. Dylan only smirked.

"My mom is Merri-Lee Marvil. That's how I 'got this place'." she put air quotes around my words. It took all the strength I had to keep my jaw off the floor. This girl was Merri-Lee's _daughter_?! The number one morning talk show host in the U.S.A.? My eyes were wide as dinner plates. I heard my name and turned. Kristen was pointing to a small berth of space on the couch. I sat.

"Having any fun?" she asked. I nodded. Yeah, this was about as fun as getting bitten by King Cobras in the Amazon. The rest of Kristen's friends were talking about the latest sample sale at Barney's. I don't think Kristen was listening. I licked my lips, the taste of my cherry lip gloss on my tongue.

"I'm gonna go get a drink. Um, Kristen, do you want anything?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I'm good."

"'Kay, be right back." I got up to leave, but out of the corner of my eye I could already see the girls-minus Kristen- giggling into their palms. I walked through the grinding and swaying music, the music thumping in my ears. I made my way to the mini-bar. The 'bartender' was a kid who looked hardly older than me. He was probably a junior at Briarwood School for Boys. He turned from a pretty blonde girl and stuffed a napkin into his pants pocket.

"What can I get you sweetness?" he leered. I raised an eyebrow.

"How'd you get all this liquor?" I asked him. He laughed

"Got it off one of my friends down the block. His dad runs the liquor store."

"Oh."

"So, what drink do you want?" I looked up. He smiled at me.

"Primavera, please."

"You got it." he turned away to make my drink. I leaned against the bar, and just watched the dancers on the floor. _Disturbia _was playing, and I nodded my head to the rhythm. I noticed halfway through the song another person standing beside me. The rapidly blinking lights revealed his face. Cam, from the party.

"Cam?" I asked incredulously. He turned.

"Claire! Hey!"

"Uh..hi. What're you doing here?" I could have slapped myself. Of _course _he was here. He was invited!

"I was invited." he answered simply. I felt a nudge in my back and saw my drink. I turned and drank, savoring it's sweet flavor. I licked my lips.

"By who?"

He answered simply. "Massie." I almost dropped my drink. Massie? Why would she invite him? The answer came unbidden into my head. The way she spoke around him, the way her body language changed when she was near him. It was so obvious she liked him. To everyone, it seemed, except me. I wonder how long she's been like this?

"Excuse me," I said curtly. Forgetting my drink, I tore desperately through the crowd, tears streaming. I pushed open a back door, and found myself standing on a balcony. I had no idea this level of the club was above ground. The balcony was a very seductive, intimate place. There was a small loveseat, covered in Middle Eastern styled pillows in oranges and golds. Votive candles were scattered across a coffee table, it's wax scarring the table.

"Pretty right?" I almost shrieked. I turned, and saw Cam Fisher standing behind me.

"Are you stalking me or something?" I panted. He shook his head.

"You looked upset." I looked away quickly, wiping my eyes discreetly, to make sure he could see my tears. I sat down on the loveseat. I looked up at the sky, it's stars almost indistinguishable from the light pollution. I gave a long sigh.

"Nothing's wrong." I lied. Cam sat down beside me, his eyes never wavering from mine. He finally broke contact and looked at the sky.

"You know, the thing I miss most? The stars. You could lay down on my deck and just, watch. My dad had a huge telescope, and we'd just look at them, and try to count them." He closed his eyes for a moment.

"Sounds fun." I replied, twisting my fingers in my lap. He looked at me.

"You have beautiful eyes." he complimented.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"No," he smiled. "Just you." He leaned in, and his lips brushed mine. My eyes widened, but soon my lips relaxed against his. His hand cupped my cheek. Those few seconds felt like blissful hours. Cam pulled away, gasping. My heart was beating wildly. I opened my mouth, but closed it, only smiling. He ran his fingers through my hair.

"I'm glad I met you Claire Lyons."

**--**

**Disc.: I own nothing you recognize.**


	3. My Park Bench

**Sweet Poison**

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**A/N: Wow, I never expected so many reviews! Thanks to everyone, reviews are the things that keep me writing.**

**P.S.: If you're wondering why I haven't updated any of my other fics lately, it because I'm A.) Being lazy and B.) taking a break from the series.**

**--**

The rest of the week was spent in rose tinged bliss. A smile could always be found on my face. Many times I caught myself daydreaming of what had happened Saturday night. Eventually, Layne noticed.

"Hey, Claire, you certainly look happy today." she remarked as I set down my tray laden with a FUZE drink and chicken salad.

"Well," I said as I poured dressing on my salad "It was a good party on Saturday."

"Anyone puke on you?" she asked, smiling, taking up her tuna salad sandwich.

"No," I replied "But I heard Allie-Rose Singer and some Briarwood boy did a little more than dancing."

"She told me she was abstinent, that liar!" she cried, outraged.

"Who's a liar?" Meena asked as she slid her tray onto our tray.

"Allie-Rose Singer." I replied.

"Oh," she nodded, understanding. Heather slid in the chair next to me with her food.

"By God, the chem. exam killed me!" she moaned. Layne wrinkled her nose.

"You didn't study again, did you?" She shook her head. Layne snorted, but turned back to her lunch.

" So, what were you talking about?" asked Meena.

"Um, nothing." I said absent mindedly. Layne turned back to the conversation.

"Oh no. You don't get off that easily," she said, putting down her sandwich. "What happened?" Heather and Meena leaned in, clearly wanting to hear. I sighed and consigned myself to the fact I'd have to tell. Damn it.

"Okay...so…I sortametaguyatthepartyonSaturday." I said, all in one breath, hoping they couldn't make it out.

"Seriously?" Layne asked. "What's his name?" she pounced.

"Cam Fisher." I said in a small voice, not wanting anyone else to hear. The three of them were awestruck.

"What?" I asked, not completely understanding why they were silent.

"Massie Block has had some major jones for Cam Fisher, since, like eighth grade. She's been like all over him." My throat locked, and my stomach tightened. I had hoped that Massie's crush had been just one of those five minute '_Oh my God_, can you believe I had a crush on him?!' kind of infatuations. But

I was out of luck. Paranoid, I looked at Massie's table, where Dylan was fluffing her hair in the reflection of her pocket mirror, and Alicia gossiped with Massie over Diet Cokes.

"Relax, Claire. You've not been blacklisted. Yet." Layne said. Meena punched her in the arm.

"Ow!" she yelped. I bit my lip, so hard I could feel the metallic tinge of blood.

"What do you mean blacklisted?" I squeaked out nervously. Heather looked at Meena and Layne, each giving each other the stink eye.

"Well," she began "Once the Pretty Committee decides to destroy you, there's nothing you can do." "What?" I asked incredulously. An entire school's students decides to let four girls run their lives, and ruin them if they wanted to? Heather nodded.

"They spread rumors, steal your crushes and boyfriend, and have the entire student body ignore you. It happened last year to a girl named Jeanette. I think she goes to Abner Double-day High. I gulped nervously. I looked over towards Massie's table again. I picked at my salad. I wasn't very hungry anymore.

--

I was depressed. I walked through Central Park, ignoring the couples sitting on park benches, my backpack a dead weight to me. Joggers and dog walkers were a blur, I was so wrapped in my thoughts. What would I do if Massie, or anyone else in the Pretty Committee found out? Alicia was a known gossip. She had dirt on people before it even _happened_. And I have no intention of being 'blacklisted'. I was mulling all of this over, when I heard fast footfalls and my name being called. I turned to see a familiar mane of blonde hair and unmistakable mismatched eyes.

"Claire! Wait up!" Cam caught up to me, and started walking more slowly to match my pace.

"I've been looking for you." This caught me by surprise. He was looking for me?

"You weren't at soccer practice." he continued.

"We only practice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays." I responded. Cam frowned.

"What's wrong Claire? You looked depressed." he asked me, looking concerned. I took a deep breath before beginning.

"Cam, I-I…I can't see you anymore!" I cried. His look of concern morphed into one of hurt and confusion.

"Why not?" he demanded of me. I couldn't look at him, and only focused on the grass. I could taste the metallic tinge of pennies in my mouth. I knew I was going to cry. I swallowed and bit my tongue, trying to keep the tears from working their way out of my eyes.

"It's…Just because!" I yelled, letting the tears fall freely. Cam's angry look melted.

"It's Massie and the other girl's isn't it?" I still couldn't look at him. Instead, I brushed the tears from my face. But I didn't shake or nod my head. Cam didn't understand. I had just moved, I couldn't afford to waste this opportunity. I was at ODH on scholarship, which meant no slip-ups. If the 'Pretty Committee'-namely Massie- found out what I had done…It hurt me to even think about it. But I could not possibly tell Cam the real reason.

"No." I said stubbornly, my voice filled with more courage than I felt.

"I have a boyfriend!" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Cam shoulders lowered and slumped, his face taking on a mix of anger, humiliation and regret.

"What?"

The lie came quickly and easily. "Back in Florida. It's, it's his birthday today." Cam's face was stormy. I feared I may have gone too far. He squared his shoulders.

"Then," his voice was low, with barely controlled fury. "Why did you kiss me?" I couldn't answer him. I watched him turn, and slowly walk away. And inside of me, great sobs began to well in my chest.

--

"Claire? Claire honey, are you okay?" My mom was knocking on my door. I was curled up on my bed in our small apartment. I had been crying for hours. I had first come home, ran straight to my room, and cried for an hour solid. My parents had taken turns knocking on my door. I had homework to do, dinner was ready, Todd, my brother, was home. But I didn't care. All I could picture was the look of hurt on Cam's face when I lied to him, lying to save my own skin. I skipped dinner, did my algebra homework, and went to sleep at nine o'clock. I haven't done that since the _fifth grade_. I felt so depressed I couldn't even answer my cell phone. I only hoped school would be better.

--

I begged my mom to let me stay home. I faked everything, cramps, the flu, everything short of the Bubonic plague. But apparently 'nothing can stop my perfectly healthy daughter from going to school'. I truly could not really express the anxiety I had as I walked up to the front doors of the school at eight o'clock that morning. But everything seemed…normal. Dare I say _too _normal? Everyone did what they usually did. The preppy field hockey girls compared shopping trips, the drama kids rehearsed the joint Briarwood-ODH play, and the alternative kids were wired into their iPods. Nothing was different. There were no mobs chasing after me, one giving me dirty looks, nothing. Nobody even _looked_ at me. Not a single person. I saw Layne in the hallway by the water fountain with Meena and Heather.

"Hey Layne," I said, coming over. Meena shifted from foot to foot, Heather looked off into space. Layne looked apprehensive.

"Um, hey Claire?" her voice cracked towards the end.

"What's wrong?" They seemed off. What was wrong with them?

"Uh, well, see you in Chem. Bye!" she scurried off with Meena and Heather, leaving me bewildered. I almost tore after them, but the bell for Homeroom rang. I jogged to my locker, but there appeared to be something tied to it. There the lock attached to the door, hand a black ribbon with a card attached to it. I untied the ribbon, read the curly, damning script.

'Good morning Clare Bear.'

Fuck.

**--**

**Disc.: I own nothing you recognize. **


	4. My Starbucks

**A/N: I normally try to keep my notes short, but today's an exception:**

**Would anyone like to be my beta reader? As pointed out from a reviewer, I do need one, and I think I really could use one too. Just email me or send me a review if you are interested. Thanks!**

--

The rest of my day was a considerable hell. During the course of the day, not only was I tripped, and had my books 'accidentally' thrown clear across the hallway floor, but I was also pushed, and bumped by people I knew were the friends and lapdogs of the 'Pretty Committee'. I will tell you this, they may be pretty on the outside, but their insides were ugly as sin.

But if the in-between time before class was hellish, than I couldn't name what lunch was.

I had brought a bag lunch, not wanting to wait in line, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. Layne wouldn't even _look _at me, and so sitting with Meena and Heather were completely out of the question. But every time I thought I had found a table I could sit at, there seemed to be no room. After the fifth time that had happened, I summarized that this was also part of my purgatory. I heaved a sigh, and left the cafeteria. I ended up wandering around the halls until I found an empty classroom. I ended up eating lunch in solitude.

--

When I got home from school, I felt like shit. But after feeling sorry for myself for about an hour, I finally decided to confront Layne. I told myself it was stupid to actually care about what Massie Block did, whether it was inflicting pain on _me_, or if it was laughing at someone else's jokes. But I did, I really did, and I hated myself for it. I hated how she had turned my friends away from me, I hated how she controlled an entire student body with only her eyes. But mostly, I hated her because she took Cam away from me. I thought about all of this on the elevator ride to Layne's apartment. She was on the top floor, the penthouse level. The doors slid open to reveal a short hallway with two doors on either side of me. I knew Layne's apartment was number 33, the one on the left. I rang the doorbell, and waited patiently. The door opened up to a tall buttery blonde-haired boy, with a red Briarwood High Lacrosse sweatshirt on with black Diesel jeans. He was gorgeous. His blue eyes were crystal clear, and he looked at me as if pleasantly surprised.

"Um, hello?" I asked, it coming out as more of a question. He simply smiled.

"You're Claire aren't you?" He knew my name too? I nodded, mutely, still in awe of the Adonis before me.

"Layne's in her room. Come on in." He let the door wider, and I walked in. Layne's living room freaked me out. It was a Art Nouveau kind of theme, with spotless white carpets and couches, and Jackson Pollock paintings adorning the walls. The only evidence that someone lived here was the issue of _Sports Illustrated_, and Diet Coke on the clear glass coffee table, and the NFL game on the T.V. Chris threw up his feet on the coffee table and took a swig of his Coke.

"Layne!" He yelled from the couch "You're friend's here!" He nodded at me, and I crossed the living room, passed the kitchen, and into a longer, wider hallway. I turned and knocked on the door with echoes of J-Pop emanating through the door. I opened the door, and saw Layne flipping through a copy _Seventeen_, with her iPod blasting Buck Tick. She looked up and smiled.

"Hey," she greeted me. And I remembered what I was here to do. I stood there, just looking at her for a little while, as she sat on her bed, smiling, as if nothing was wrong. As if today had never happened. It made me angry, to see her so unaffected.

"How can you smile after what's happened?" I demanded of her. Behind her, a new song started up, this time with a new artist. Layne's smile slipped off of her face quickly. She closed her magazine.

"You made your own bed with this Claire." My mouth hung open in shock.

"You're _blaming me _for what those girls are doing to me?!" I was incensed with fury. Layne only raised her eyebrows at my outburst.

"Claire," she began calmly, as a teacher explaining something to a small child. "You were stupid enough to get caught flirting with _Massie Block's _crush. What did you think would happen?" I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes as Layne flung these accusations at me.

"So why are talking to me now? Why did you ignore me at school and then act like everything's fine?" I struggled not to let the tears into my voice, but it was very difficult.

"No one can see what goes on in the privacy of your own home." Privacy? Her excuse was flimsy, how could she say that? The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them:

"That's it?! That's why you avoided me? You're scared of a sixteen year old girl! How could be so two faced?!" I screamed at her. Layne's face was set as marble, hard and edged, and I was scared I had gone too far.

"Don't yell at me." she enunciated slowly "For your mistakes. It's not my fault this happened to you. But what would you know about this anyway? You have nothing to lose."

I felt like I had been hit in the stomach, her words like knives. The tears were welling up in my chest, locking up my throat. I blinked the back furiously, as I spoke to her.

"No Layne, I lost a friend." I turned and fled, startling Layne's brother, flying out the door. I called the elevator, praying it would come soon. The tears were falling freely now, and the coppery taste of pennies filled my mouth. The doors slid open, and with no one in it, I filled the empty elevator car with my sobs.

--

For the second time in two weeks, I found myself in Central Park. I sat on a park bench, depressed. I really needed to get out of this funk I was in. But I couldn't help it. Not even the glorious promise of a weekend cheered me. Just I was about to fall into the precipice of melancholy, a shadow fell across my body as something nudged my foot. I looked down, and saw an Adidas soccer ball underneath my bench. I glanced upwards and saw a figure clad in a tank top and mesh sports running towards me. It felt like I had boarded the Tower of Terror ride at Disneyworld. I swallowed, trying to quell my nervousness, as I saw the oh-so familiar figure run towards me.

"Hey, ball?!" Kristen shouted as she came closer. She stopped in front of me. "Oh, uh Claire," she said awkwardly. She licked her lips "Um, ball?" she asked, shaking me out of my stupor.

"Oh, right." I bent over and retrieved the ball from the grassy spot underneath the bench. I tossed it to her. Kristen deftly caught it with one hand. She still stood, holding the ball, as if she wanted to say something. I pursed my lips. But Kristen only shifted from foot to foot. Finally, she did speak: "So, Claire. I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping tomorrow…" she trailed off. I frowned slightly. Two sides within me raged, trying to decide whether I should even answer. If you've ever imagined those little angels and devils on people's shoulders, that's what I pretty much had right about now:

_You should be nice to her, say you'll go._

Yeah, but she's been a total bitch!

_Give her a second chance, Kristen could be sorry for all she's done._

Yeah, but-

_For God's sake throw her a bone!_

"Yeah, um sure. What time?" I asked, giving into the-rather aggressive- angel figment. Kristen's smile lit up her face, and I felt an teensy bit guilty for leaving her hanging like that.

"How about noon? We'll be going to the Westchester mall. I'm sure you'll be able to find on Yahoo Maps." I thought about her proposition, mulling it about in my brain. Oh what the hell? How bad could it be?

"I'll be there." I replied.

--

It turned out the Westchester mall was a two hour drive from where we lived. As you can imagine my mom wasn't exactly _pleased _when I asked her if I could borrow our car for a two hour drive. But she surrendered, as long as I promised to pay for any fill-up, along with promising to call her when I arrived and left the mall. I think my wallet took the brunt of the blow the most. So, when Saturday did arrive, I checked the gas gauge, praying I wouldn't have to pay for outrageously overpriced four-dollars-a-gallon gas. Luckily, my mom had half a tank left. So, at nine thirty, I took out my mom's Mercury out. I spent the majority of the commute avoiding other drivers as the blasted their horn at my petite, sixteen-and-seven month self. Needless to say, I was quite traumatized. I arrived at the Westchester Mall, I began to wonder if a mall was worth the pain and suffering inflicted from the drive up. But when my stomach growled, I knew I had no choice but to go inside the mall. I decided going into the Starbucks. Like all other stores, Starbucks has a uniform appeal to it, that I thought was a very endearing. I mostly went there for there for the Frappucinos and muffins. But this one seemed especially crowded. Well dressed women and teenage girls wearing Uggs and miniskirts in 78° weather carried delicate looking iced lattes, and writers sat plugging away at their slim Macbooks and Dell laptops. I had never felt so out of place in my life, with my Gap jeans and Abercrombie t-shirt. It also didn't help that while I toted a venti mocha Frappacino, other girls carried non-fat sugar free iced lattes. So, feeling like a crow in the midst of swans, I settled for a back table, and waited for Kristen,

--

Kristen didn't actually show up until twelve ten. I was a little ticked off, after all I had been waiting since eleven fifty. When she _did_ arrive, I was dismayed to see she wasn't alone. Accompanying her was Massie, Dylan and Alicia. My eyes widened slightly as they sauntered into the Starbucks. I was beginning to regret the text I had sent to Kristen to tell her I was here, Sure enough, Kristen spotted me in my corner and waved. I wave back begrudgingly. Massie, Dylan and Alicia got in the line to the cash register, but Kristen broke away and sat down on the chair opposite of me. She frowned when she saw my dismayed expression.

"What up?" she asked, concerned. I looked at her like she had grown a third head? What was _wrong_? I just Punk'd that' s what!

"_You told me it was just going to be us!_"I hissed. But Kristen only shrugged, sitting back in her chair.

"No, no I did not. I said 'we', _you _didn't ask whom 'we' entailed. And this 'we' is you, me, and my friends." I felt my eye involuntarily twitch, and I wanted to slap myself for my stupidity. But I only put my head on the table, and sighed slowly, and deeply, somehow trying to let out all of my tension, and anguish.

This much was clear to me: God hated me.

--

**Disc.: I own nothing you recognize.**


	5. My Shopping Mall

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews people; they literally are all that is getting me through this **_**extremely **_**crappy week. I also give a salute to my new beta, RhiniHeartBreaker. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and showing your continual support.**

**P.S.: Sorry it took so long to update!  
**

**--**

The five of us were standing outside the Starbucks, positioned next to a bench, and an elevator. Even though I held a sweating, cold drink, I still felt unbearably hot. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and leaned in closer to hear what Massie was saying.

"…So of course I have to shop for an outfit. And I'm not even going to _begin _to try to describe him. All I know is that he goes to Briarwood High." The girls nodded excitedly, and I did as well, if only going through the motions.

"Ehmah_Gawd_ Massie! Why didn't you tell us all of this earlier?!" Alicia demanded of her BFFF (Best Female Friend Forever). I could tell by the tone of her voice, she was one part envious, and one part excited. Massie glowed as she divulged more of her mystery date.

"Well," she held a smug smile on her face, reveling in the attention being rained down on her. "He's tall…" She left them hanging, as if she was dangling a carrot in front of them. "He's über hot! And…guess what? He's a senior!" The other girls squealed with her, but me, not knowing exactly whom they were talking about, ventured a question:

"What's his name?" The girls seemed to freeze. The stopped giggling, and just looked at me, as if I had laid an egg right in front of them. Massie, however, looked at me questionably.

"Uh, who exactly are you? Because it's very rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations." I must have appeared shocked, because Massie smile was catlike with malevolence.

"I-I'm Claire. I've been here the whole time." My voiced trailed off, and I looked over at Kristen, pleading with my eyes _Do something!_ Lucky for me, she came to my rescue.

"You asked me to invite her Mass." Her tone was smooth and soothing, and Massie seemed to relax slightly.

"Really? Hm, it must've slipped my mind." She cocked her head to the side, holding her Iced Latte, and took a sip from its icy contents.

"His name's Chris Abeley. I don't know he has any brothers or sisters." I blinked twice. Layne had a brother that went to Briarwood. He would be a senior if my assumptions were correct. Layne's last name was Abeley. The two connected, and I saw with icy clarity my situation: Massie was dating Layne's brother! The irony of it was almost too much to bear, and I suppressed a chuckle. Massie continued her conversation:

"So, we should definitely go to BCBG first. Then Hermés."

"Perf. I can _totally _get my Homecoming dress now!" Dylan exclaimed. Kristen nodded in ascent. Massie, Alicia and rest of us started walking towards the elevator. The clear glass doors slid open to encompass all of us. Alicia pressed the green 'Two' button, and the car began its slow ascent. From inside the glass capsule, I could see almost the entire mall. Stores were squished side-by-side in colorful clusters, and small decorative signs denoted the brands they held. Stores like 'Dior', 'Dolce and Gabbana' and 'Ferragamo'. However, before I had any more time to gawk and stare, Dylan pulled me by my arm to follow the rest. With an eye roll, she let go and hurried to catch up with the others. I looked up to the sign of the boutique we were entering. It was BCBG by Max Azaria. I had never been in a BCBG before, so I was surprised by the interior. All upon the walls dresses in an assortment of colors begged to be tried on and bought. Shoes lined the opposite wall in small white cubicles for display purposes. And beyond _that_, lay colorful skirts, shirts and pants on different wooden racks. A perky blonde sales associate sashayed up towards our small group. Massie's eyes were lazily half lidded, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Curious, I leaned in to observe the transaction between the sales girl and the queen bee.

"Can I help you girls?" I noticed the teenaged girl looking hungrily at Massie's Gucci oversized handbag, practically salivating at the thought of the massive commission she would receive for selling any one us-minus, of course, my middle class self-a single item of clothing. Massie whipped off her Dior Aviator sunglasses, and pulled out a piece of paper, pulled out, it seemed, from _Teen Vogue_ magazine.

"I'm looking for this." She accusingly thrust the picture to the hapless girl. I leaned forward to sneak a peak. It was a pretty enough dress. It was a shimmery, purple one sleeved mini-dress with black kitten heels and black stockings. I could see the sales girl become nervous as she studied the picture.

"This dress is limited edition…" she began haplessly. Massie slyly grinned.

"Do you have the dress or not?" Massie asked. The girl licked her lips.

"I'll, uh, see." She ran towards the back frantically. Massie and the rest of them gracefully took a seat on the black cushioned bench in the middle of the store.

"Well played Massie." Alicia complimented coolly. Massie nodded.

"I heard that Leslie Anderson was going to wear the dress to homecoming. But I'm _certain _I'd look much better than it than _her."_ Dylan looked up as the girl came over with a black garment with a tag on it.

"I-I found it!" she was like a child, wishing to please. Massie nodded and smiled freely. She crumpled the tag and threw it to the ground.

"Perf. I'll go try it on." She strutted over towards the back, while the rest of the girls dispersed, flipping through the racks idly. But before I left, I picked up the tag. It read 'Reserved for- L. Anderson-9/8/08'. Feeling guilty for even being a part of this, I threw it underneath the cushioned seat. I leisurely strolled over towards a rack of dresses, fingering silk and chenille fabrics as they slid through my hands like water. Their colors were like hypnosis, swirling together like a waterfall or a river. The dresses varied in size and color. I caressed a sky blue floor length dress. I picked up the price tag, and immediately put the dress back as if it was on fire. I wasn't going to break my bank for a dress I didn't need. I moved towards the back, avoiding other shoppers. Towards the back was a wooden shelf attached to the wall, filled with uniformly lined up handbags, in wild and muted colors. I walked past it, trying not to give into temptation. I heard Alicia's unmistakable giggle, and walked into a small, circular dressing room, with a round cushion ottoman and a golden chandelier hanging above it. Alicia giggled as Dylan made a goofy catwalk turn and vogued for the imagined paparazzi.

"The tube dress looks great on you Dyl!" Alicia complimented her. I nodded my head in ascent. It was a pretty, turquoise dress, with attached sleeves at the shoulders, glove-like. The smooth fabric hugged Dylan's curves, and ended at her knees.

"You really think so?" She pirouetted in front of a standing mirror. "It doesn't make me look too fat?" Alicia cleared her throat

"Ulgh, Dylan! How many times do I have to tell you? You're _not fat_!" I nodded.

"Totally. I wish I had your body." I was trying to be supportive, I really was, but Dylan only frowned.

"What are you _tah-lking _about Kuh-laire? You're like, super skinny!" While I wasn't exactly Miss Dunkin' Donuts 2008, I didn't think I was _that _thin. Dylan obviously had low self-esteem. This was a shame because she was quite pretty. Dylan stripped, leaving the blue dress on the floor, and pulled back on her Rock and Republic jeans and her black Bebe top. She pulled the black short-sleeved shirt over her head, and for a moment, I could see her face or head. Dylan snapped the buttons and pulled on her dainty black flats. Alicia sat, one foot crossed behind the other.

"Are you going to buy it?" Alicia's eyebrows were raised as she said it. Dylan picked it up, examining it.

"Umm… I guess so…" Without another word, she dug into her khaki Fendi bag, and retrieved a leather wallet. She zipped her bag back up.

"Let's go pay."

--

I didn't buy much from any of the stores in the mall. I was envious of the other girls I walked buy, proudly displaying their candy colored bags from notorious labels. Alicia had begged Massie to go into Ralph Lauren. Around the cozy and orderly store, wafted the scent of Ralph Lauren's signature scent, _Romance_. Alicia made a beeline for the denim section at the back of the store. Kristen stuck close to me, and it was just then when I realized she didn't have a single shopping bag from the multitude of boutiques we had visited.

"Hey, Kris, you didn't buy anything?" Kristen looked at me with an expression of embarrassment and answered:

"Oh, um yeah," She seemed flustered " I didn't see anything I liked."

"What about that red halter top I saw you trying on in Hermés? I thought you said really liked it." She avoided my pointed gaze.

"Well, you see…" She grabbed me by the arm and dragged be hind a wall. She looked over her shoulder.

"This is a secret you will carry _to your grave _Claire," she hissed. She took a breath. "I… sort of don'thaveanymoney." she rushed. I blinked, mostly trying to decipher what she just said.

"How?" I asked. It seemed quite impossible. Kristen went to one of the most elite-and expensive- private schools in New York. She was part of the crèmeé de la crème of society. How was it possible that someone like her could be anything less than the perfect person she seemed to be?

"My dad is a painter. And made most of his money on an exclusive contract with a New York gallery. And our family accountant advised my father to gamble on some stocks that didn't exactly work out. And the gallery didn't want get a bad rep from a disgraced name, and broke contract with him. So I'm broke. I had to apply for financial aid to even go to school! You must think I'm such a loser."

"What?" I was in shock from this new development. "No!" I asserted forcefully. Kristen seemed relieved and shrank slightly.

"Well, that's a relief. I had no idea what to tell Massie." I forced a smile. "Well, I guess we should get back to the group." I nodded with her and we reemerged to catch up with the group.

"By the way, who do want to ask you to Homecoming?" she asked, perfectly serious.

"Um, I dunno." That was a difficult question. If I hadn't told Cam Fisher off as I had last week, his name would have been obvious. But the fact was I had, and I regretted doing so every day. It was made even worse knowing there was a dance coming up. Back home in Orlando, my friends and I would go with a group of friends, not caring if we had dates or not. But here it seemed compulsory to have a date. Kristen shrugged.

"What about you?" I asked her. She flushed scarlet, and took a few moments to answer.

"Chris Plovert. He's a junior."

"Does he go to Briarwood?" she nodded.

"Yep. But he hasn't asked me yet." I tried to remember what exactly he looked like, but could not recall. Embarrassed, I asked her.

"Oh, tall. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes. The usual."

"Sounds hot." I observed.

"Yeah he really is." Suddenly, she began to dig around in her purse, and pulled out her cell phone. She flipped it open, seemingly reading. She clicked it close.

"Massie says were done here. She'll be waiting outside with everybody else. You coming?" I couldn't tell if she meant leaving the store or the mall, but I nodded anyway.

"Perf, let's go." With that, she replaced her phone and we walked out of Ralph side by side.

--

Sure enough, Massie and the others were waiting by the curb, nest to a large silver Range Rover. I couldn't see much, but I made out the faint outline of a flipped down T.V. screen. Wow, so Massie really _was _loaded. Massie perked up as she saw us approach.

"Kris _there_ you are! I thought you got kidnapped!" She giggled, and opened the door.

"You two coming?" Well this sucked. I'd driven up here, and if I accepted the invitation, who'd drive my mom's car back? I grimaced.

"Sorry, but I drove up here in my own car." Massie looked…disappointed. She pouted.

"Well, whatevs. Better luck next time." The rest of the girls neatly filed inside, their shopping bags already in the trunk. Massie followed them. As the car pulled away from the curb, the window, ever so slightly, rolled down, revealing Massie's eyes.

"See you at school Claire-Bear!" With a final giggle, the car drove away, leaving me with more questions than answers.


	6. My Answering Machine

**A/N: Thanks to all reviewers so far. You guys rock! Thanks you's especially to RhiniHeartBreaker.**

**--**

Somewhere, outside of my blissful dream-like state, my alarm was going off. I internally cursed the screaming machine of death before groaning and getting out of bed to turn it off. My parents had decided, because of my tradition of being late to school, to put my alarm clock on a table on _the other side of the room_.

How evil.

After turning it off, brushing my teeth, and pulling on the mandatory uniform, I looked presentable. Or, as presentable as one can be when you are _oh so rudely _awakened at six-fifteen on a Monday.

Grabbing my forgotten backpack, I headed through our small kitchen, only pausing long enough to fix myself a cup of coffee and toast myself a Cinnamon Pop-Tart. They were to me what cigarettes were to smokers.

I yelled to my mom, dad and brother, Todd, that I was leaving, (That's how we communicated in my family), and headed out into the big, bad world. As usual, Mrs. Sykes, our irritable and elderly neighbor was grabbing her mail, her hair still set in curlers, and still in her floor length cotton nightgown. She scowled at me as I came out of my family's apartment.

I ignored her obvious disapproval and pressed the 'Down' button harder than I intended to. The doors slid open smoothly. On the ride down to the lobby, I began to think about the shopping trip I had had with Kristen and the Pretty Committee. When the door slid open again, I was blinded by the sudden rays of early morning sun that came through the slanted skylight of our apartment building. I pushed the tinted glass door opened, and it seemed like it would be a good day. I just hope it was a sign.

--

School is a good ten-minute walk from where I live. Normally, I'd walk past all the shops and boutiques, and once in a while, I managed to squeeze in a trip to Starbucks before I actually got to school. However, it seemed today was particularly crowded. I was dodging businessmen and dog walkers, trying to get to the aforementioned café, when I was knocked over.

"Ow," I groaned, trying to right myself. Even though my backpack had cushioned my fall, I think my English binder was poking me in the back. A hand flew out to help me up. I took it, grateful, and I came face-to-face with two hazel eyes.

"Thank you." The boy who had helped me up was a butterscotch blonde, with stripes of caramel in his hair. As I looked him up and down, I saw he was wearing the signature white Oxford and khaki pants of Briarwood Day School, with the crest stitched onto the pocket of his shirt.

"You alright?" he inquired.

"Yeah, I think so," I nodded.

"Sorry." he grimaced.

"No, it not a problem…" I trailed off, hoping for a name.

"Josh."

"Claire. You go to Briarwood don't you?"

"Yep. And you go to ODH right?"

I laughed. "Guilty as charged." Josh shifted from foot to foot.

"Listen, I feel bad for knocking you over, so can I buy you some coffee or something?" I nodded again.

"I was going there anyway." He smiled again. I found I really liked it when he did. It was the kind of smile that lit up his face. "Cool."

--

We walked into the Starbucks that was down the street from ODH. It was filled with a rush of businessmen, and other private school students and teachers, buying their Half-Fat-Sugar-Free-Extra Foam Lattes and breakfast sandwiches.

Josh and I walked up to the counter. The rather overweight barista looked up from the cash register where he had rung the last order up, a black coffee with a shot of espresso. Josh pulled out a brown leather wallet.

"Hi. I'd like a Grande Caramel Macchiato, and…" he looked at me "What do you want?" I stifled a smile, trying not to giggle at his order. "I'll have a Grande Sugar Free White Chocolate Mocha…please." The barista nodded, and proceeded to key in our order.

"Your total is seven-sixty." I made a move towards the wallet hidden away in my backpack, but Josh beat me to it, slapping down a Black American Express card. My jaw must have dropped, because Josh pulled a face.

"What?" I snapped my mouth shut.

"Nothing, nothing at all," I replied quickly. He raised his eyebrows and re- pocketed his wallet, shutting away the exclusive card with it. He motioned to a table over by the window.

"Here, I'll get our order." Mighty chivalrous, this one. No other guy I knew would do such a thing. Except, maybe Cam.

Cam.

I sighed at the thought of him. What was I doing? Why wasn't I trying to win him back? And what about Josh? What, in the hell, did I do now? Both Josh _and _Cam were sweet and attractive guys. But, then again, Cam wasn't speaking to me, especially after the way I had treated him. I suppose I deserve it.

I looked up from our table and saw Josh coming back, holding two steaming cardboard cups. He set mine down in front of me and smiled.

"Here's your Sugar-Free White Mocha." I smiled and took the lid off, letting the steam spill out into the atmosphere. I took a long sip, savoring the sweet and warm taste. I looked above the rim, and saw Josh staring at me.

"What?" I asked, unsure of his gaze. Josh seemed to shake out of his reverie, and blink twice.

"Huh? Oh, nothing." I smiled. I liked Josh, I genuinely did. He made me feel safe, like nothing, or no _one _could hurt me. I traced the swirling patterns on the table, zoning out, until I heard my name. I looked up, and saw Josh raising an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I asked, again, hoping he hadn't noticed how I hadn't been listening. He slowly shook his head.

"I was asking you what your favorite band was. You looked like you were on another planet or something." I blushed, but answered his question nonetheless.

"Hmmm…" I put my finger to my lips. "I guess I don't really have a favorite." He shrugged but smiled.

"Understandable, there's a lot out there." I cocked my head and smiled playfully.

"So what's _yours_?" I volleyed back. Josh put his hands behind his head, ruffling his hair.

"Bowling for Soup's, okay. I'm more into classic bands."

"Like Queen, classic or Frank Sinatra, classic?" He shook his head, removing his hands from his head, and running his fingers through his hair instead.

"Nah, Queen, definitely. Jimi Hendrix, too." I nodded in agreement, and took another sip of my coffee. After that, we continued to talk about music. The advantages of Mp3s over CDs, iPods versus Zunes, and anything else we could think of. I checked my watch.

"Holy-Frick! I have to be at school in five minutes! Shit!" I grabbed my coat and my bag from the floor and bolted for the exit, unintentionally leaving Josh hanging.

--

Weaving in and out of people, and dodging messenger cyclists, I looked at my watch. Five of Eight. Great. Just my fucking luck. Homeroom would start in five minutes. Fuck.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shiiittt_!" I cursed as I ran up the marble steps to the school, pushing the heavy glass doors of the building open and running to my downstairs locker. Popping it open with my well practiced combination, I threw my coat inside, slammed the door, and ran towards the staircase.

Taking the steps two at a time, I looked at my watched. Eight-oh-nine.

One minute. I wouldn't be late. Not today. No to-

Shit.

--

There I was, standing at the second floor, almost to freedom, when I saw my homeroom teacher, Mr. Robito, glaring at me outside the closed door of my homeroom, English.

"_Miss _Lyons," he annunciated my name carefully. "When you are late to homeroom, you are late to school. It is eight fifteen. Do you _really _expect to waltz into my classroom, when everybody else _has been waiting for ten minutes_?!"

It was actually eight fourteen, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"But, Mr. Robito I-" He held up a hand.

"No _buts._ I don't care if there was eight car pile-up on the freeway. You come to class on time, or not at all!"

Fantastic.

--

I was sitting in detention. Well, not so much as sitting, but really slumping over in my seat. Not only was I cold, the heating system in the building had never worked, but I was going to have a hell of a time explaining to my mom how I had gotten detention. I looked at the clock at the front of the room.

Three-fifty.

Ten more minutes and I'd be free as a bird. I tapped my fingers on my desk, when my bag began to vibrate. Stealing a glance at the Honors Calculus teacher, who was proctoring the detention, but really grading tests, I fished out my small, but old, phone. It read one new text message. I held the phone underneath my desk as I read:

_Where r u?_

_-K_

I typed quickly, trying not to disturb the other students and the teacher.

_K-_

_Detention._ :(

_-C_

I hit send and stowed my phone back into the pocket of my backpack.

--

The bell finally rang, signaling my freedom, and letting me go. I grabbed my books and squeezed out the door with the other students. Running through the halls, I checked my cell phone and dialed home. After three rings, my brother, Todd, picked up.

"Hello?" I gasped for breath as I talked, making me sound as if I was a fish caught on a line.

"Hey Todd, it's Claire. Tell mom I got a detention and I'll be home in a little bit." I heard chuckling from the other side of the line.

"You? Miss Goody-Two-Shoes-Two-Thousand-Nine got a detention? I'm shocked!" I could hear the bravado and rolled my eyes, still running.

"Look, you little dipshit, cut the crap. I'll see you in ten." I hung up before he could say anything else. I decided to cut through the park again. Stopping at the crosswalk, a black Range Rover pulled up at the red light, the window rolling down to reveal a familiar facing behind Dior sunglasses.

"Hey, Claire!" Massie shouted at me, ignoring the angry honking of cars behind her as the car stayed in the lane, even though the light was green.

"What are you doing? Get on in here!" I took the invitation gladly, climbing into the back seat of the SUV, squeezing between Massie and the door.

'_Thank God they're all so skinny.' _I mused. Being as thin as they were, it was easy to fit five people in the back seat of the Range Rover. I looked around the car, as I lowered my backpack onto the carpet floor. A small cube T.V. was situated in the middle of the ceiling. And…Oh My God, was that a mini-fridge sticking out of the back of that middle partition? Apparently it was, for Alicia pulled out a yellow Vitamin Water from it.

"So, I think we should _totally _get together to get ready for Homecoming." I heard Alicia suggest to Massie.

"Ehmah_Gawd_, totally! We just re-did our penthouse. We, like, totally have enough space!" Massie testified for the rest of us. Dylan and Kristen agreed quickly, and Massie looked at me expectantly. I shifted uncomfortably.

"I was going to get ready with Layne." I protested weakly. Dylan cocked her head.

"You mean Slow Layne?" She wrinkled her ski slope nose in disgust. "She downs Go-Gurt like water. Ew!" As the girls laughed, I turned and looked out the window, seemingly pensive. I tried to ignore their giggles and slumped in the little space I had on the leather seat. Once the giggling subsided, I tried to change the subject.

"So, do any of you have dates for the Homecoming dance?" I asked cheerily.

"Hell, yeah! Chris is meeting me there," Massie said, rolling her eyes. Alicia nodded in affirmation.

"What about the rest of you?" I asked.

"I'm going with Chris Plovert," Dylan piped up.

"Griffin Hastings." Kristen took a sip out of her water bottle. I nodded.

"I don't know yet." Alicia pulled out a copy of _Vogue _from her sleek black patent leather Gucci tote.

"Aren't you cutting it a little close?" I asked her. She only flipped through the table of contents, and Massie answered for her.

"Alicia's got two boys waiting in line for her. Kemp Hurley, and Derrick Herrington."

"Derrick Harrington? What's he going to wear? A sports coat and shorts?" Dylan asked. Kristen let out a phlegm filled cackle, and I couldn't help but smirk. Alicia leveled with Dylan.

"Laugh all you want, but you cannot deny he has an ah-dorable ass." Massie laughed.

"She got you, Dyl! She so got you!" Kristen laughed. The car came to a slow stop, and the tinted glass partition slid down, revealing a middle aged driver.

"Miss Marvil? We're here." Dylan grabbed her Prada handbag, and pushed Kristen out of the way.

"Move your toned butt Kris!" Kristen giggled and Dylan hopped out of the car, her hair flying around her like a cyclone. She slammed the door and waved to her friends, disappearing into the rotating doors of her enormous apartment building.

"Miss Rivera, we'll be out front of your building in a few minutes." Massie's driver reminded her.

"Thanks Isaac." Alicia scanned an article about binge drinking hungrily. The car pulled away from the curb, and I heard my phone chime, as it usually did when I had a text message. I rooted around for it before reading:

_Where r u? Moms worried._

Todd. I typed as quickly as I could.

_Getting a ride w/ Massie_.

I hit 'Send' and my phone chirped happily as it sent. I folded it back up, and stuck into my skirt's pocket. For the rest of the ride I watched the sky high buildings and skyscrapers that made up New York's unique skyline pass by as a blur. The car slowed to a stop outside of a fancy high rise apartment building, not unlike the others we had passed. Alicia untangled herself from the mess of expensive handbags and my backpack. She waved goodbye.

"See ya, bitches!" she laughed, turning away from the car. The sunlight caught her hair, and for a moment, she looked like a model in a T.V. commercial.

As it had with Dylan, the car pulled away from the curb, and switched lanes into the mainstream traffic. Kristen had picked up the forgotten _Vogue_ and was flipping through it without interest. Massie looked merely bored.

"So where do you live?" I whipped my head around. Massie looked expectantly at me, awaiting an answer.

"Um, Crescent Moon apartments." Massie nodded, rolling down the partition, most likely to tell Isaac where I lived. Massie rolled the partition back up and sat back into the middle of the seat. Kristen continued to thumb through the magazine, absorbed in it. For a few moments, Massie was silent.

I snuck a sideways glance at her. Massie had a regal bearing about her, almost a lioness. She stretched her feet out in front her, relaxing for a moment, before turning to me.

"Have you heard from Cam lately?" I heard a sharp intake of breath. My eyes flicked to Kristen, whose own eyes were immediately hidden in her magazine. I pondered the complicated question before turning back to Massie.

"No." The answer seemed to please Massie, and she allowed herself a smile.

"Good, he's not good enough for a girl like you." I looked at her, confused. Massie shook her head to elaborate.

"His last girlfriend broke up him twice, slept with him, and then dumped him the day after." My mouth was gaping.

"Your boyfriend shouldn't be a doormat. You should be able to depend on him." I didn't answer her.

Cam wasn't a doormat…was he?

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Cam was just a considerate person. He wasn't a tool like other boys at my old school in Orlando had been. I looked at Kristen, who was gathering her things, and buttoning up her coat. She opened the car, waved goodbye and slammed it behind her. Only Massie and I were left. The car ride was silent, the girl next to me more of an enigma than ever.

--

The apartment was dark when I opened the door. I checked my watch, and saw it was only four-twenty five. Where were my mother and Todd?

"Mom?" I called out. But there was no answer. I walked into our kitchen, turning on the light. A Post-It note was stuck onto the face of the refrigerator. I picked it off and read it.

_Claire-_

_Went to the grocery store with Todd. Dad's coming home late tonight, so you're on your own until five. PLEASE do your homework._

_xoxo_

_Mom_

_PS- There's a message on the machine for you._

I crumpled the note and threw it into the trash can. I dumped my backpack by the dining room table and walked over to the answering machine, which was perched on an end table by our sofa. I pushed the red blinking button and took a listen.

"Hey, Claire. This is Josh, from this morning. If you're wondering how I got your number, I asked around for your last name, and looked it up in the directory. So, no, I'm not stalking you," he laughed nervously. "But seriously, I was wondering if you'd want to be my Homecoming date. I know it's kind of late to ask you, it being on Friday, and today being Monday, but if you're free, give me a buzz."

He left his number, and I ran to the kitchen to write it down. Hastily, I scribbled the numbers and picked up the phone, dialing clumsily. After a few rings, I heard a voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Josh? Yeah, it's me, Claire. Listen, I just wanted to tell you I'd love to be your date."


	7. My Homecoming I

**A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with the story this long! Thank you to RhiniHeartBreaker**

**P.S.: I've started a forum called The Clique: High Society**

**Disc.: I own none of the brands, logos or any recognizable products listed in this fiction. All materials and products belong to their respective owners.**

**--**

The music pounded in my ears as I danced my hands up in the air. Josh's hands slid down my waist and settled on my hips, swaying in perfect rhythm to the high paced song playing. Britney Spears 'Womanizer' played, a clearly trashed senior jockeying. Every so often, he would let out another 'Woohoo!' and take a swig from a flask hidden in his sport coat.

Ah, high school.

Homecoming was a lot more intense than I had imagined. Josh had driven me, Layne and her out-of-school indie boyfriend Eli to the venue ODH and Briarwood had rented out for the co-Homecoming. That afternoon, while the football game was being played, Layne and I spent the time gussying and primping for the dance.

"_What is this Layne?" I asked her, thumbing a green package that looked like a sugar packet on her Hello Kitty bedspread. Layne looked over from her full length mirror, where she was pulling her hair into a messy chignon._

"_Oh, that? That's my condom. Eli and I are going to go all the way tonight." I dropped the plastic package like it was on fire. I looked up and saw she was giggling._

"_What?" I asked her. Layne's fingers emerged from her hair and she tucked a stray strand behind her ear._

"_Nah, it's nothing. Just your face." She came over to where I was sitting on her bed. She snatched up the condom from where it had lain on her bed._

"_Are you going to make a move on Josh?" I blushed._

"_I dunno…" Layne pulled out one of her strappy high heels, the same shade as her violet floor length dress. She slipped her foot inside and began to adjust the buckle._

"_Well, whatever your decision is, all I can say is be careful." I raised an eyebrow._

"_Of course!"_

As I twirled and twisted in Josh's arms, I couldn't help but think about what Layne had said. 'Be careful?' Of what? Wasn't I cautious enough? The abrupt stop of the song stopped me. I was out of breath and thirsty. I motioned to the door of the ballroom. Josh nodded and followed me outside. As the door swung close behind us, my ears filled with a dulled ringing.

"Thanks." I pushed some of my fallen hair out my eyes. I spotted a nearby water fountain.

"I think I'm going to get a drink." My feet were aching, and each step made them throb in pain. As the cool water met my dry lips, Josh leaned against the wall. I heard him exchange hellos with other guys in our grade. I pulled away from the cool water, wiping the water from my face with the back of my hand. Josh smiled.

"Derrick says there's an after party at Plovert's house." I recognized the names of the boys on Josh's soccer team. Sometimes they would watch our soccer games during their practice. I grabbed Josh's wrist and checked his Rolex. Eleven-twenty. Kind of late, but not too late.

"What about Layne?" Even though I hadn't seen her in a while, I still wanted to make sure she was okay. I didn't want to have Layne piss-poor wasted, and in the back of a cab, falling all over herself. It was not a pretty picture, and certainly something I didn't want to be realized. Josh saw my concerned look, and seemed to realize my order of logic.

"Don't worry; I'm sure Layne will be fine. After all, she has Eli." The reassurance that Layne would not be alone abated my fears. She'd be fine. I trusted Layne after all. So why was I so nervous to leave the dance? The knot in my stomach began to tighten. I gave Josh a tight lipped smile.

"Okay, then. Let's get out of here."

--

Plovert's house was big. And I wasn't exaggerating.

The front hall alone was enough to make my parent's whole apartment look miniscule. A large marble table held a gargantuan vase of lilies, almost touching the burnished gold chandelier above it, hanging down on a long chain from the slanted ceiling. I imagined that the foyer was even more beautiful when not filled to bursting with wasted teenagers. Girls in skyscraping heels and tiny cocktail dresses leaned against the wooden walls, occasionally spilling their drinks onto the similarly colored wood floor. I could hear the remnants of music from another room, barely discernable over the loud cacophony and commotion from the other parts of the house.

I navigated my way through the crowded front hall, trying to avoid colliding with anybody. Josh was right behind me, weaving and bobbing through the throng of partygoers as I was. We crossed the threshold of the front hall into a more cavernous and expansive portion of the house. As I had predicted, the crowd of people had dispersed. From where I was standing, there was a kitchen, large and probably never used by the _actual _inhabitants of the house.

Looking to my right, I observed an even larger living room, adorned by a large -and currently occupied- couch, as well as a large mahogany coffee table, currently playing host to a multitude of plastic cups. A few people milled about, chatting aimlessly as teenagers are known to do. A few took swigs and sips from their cups, whether it was alcohol or not remained to be seen.

I adjusted the hem of my dress, the short and revealing cut of it suddenly seeming more obvious and more prominent than it had been not a few minutes ago. Josh, however, seemed right at home. He put his hand on the small of my back, sending shivers up my spine like I had been shocked. He led me into the center of the room, where two loveseats, laden with partygoers sat, laughing and talking without much care.

"Hey Hotz!" I turned my head towards the voice. It was Derrick Harrington, known playboy of Briarwood. He was also the star of the soccer team, the Tomahawks. His tie was loose, and his shirt un-tucked. Wrapped around his waist were the hands of the slender blonde, Olivia Ryan. Her already short dress was riding up, and her hair, which had once been swept back, was now falling into her eyes. Josh's steadying hand left, and I already missed its warmth.

"Harrington, hey." Josh gave him a high five. Olivia slid out of Derrick's grasp, instead preferring to stand to the side.

"You seen Plovert anywhere?" Derrick stepped away from Olivia, ignoring the disappointed look from the blonde. Josh shook his head.

"No. I just got here." Olivia gave a slight clucking noise with her tongue and touched Derrick's arm.

"Hey babe? I'm going to get a drink, care to join me?" I had no doubt of what she meant by 'drink'. Derrick's eyes beheld a rakish gleam of a man who knew he was about to get lucky. Olivia kept her hand on Derrick's arm, and began to lead him away. He turned to look at us, winked, and allowed himself to be led by his date upstairs. Josh was shaking his head, mirth in his gleaming eyes.

"Can you believe those two?" He gave a soft laugh. I smiled. His laughter was contagious.

"Hey Claire!" I turned at the sound of my name being called. To my surprise, Massie, Alicia, Kristen and Dylan were standing in the place where Olivia and Derrick Harrington had disappeared. Massie looked gorgeous in her gold Donna Karan mini-dress, and the people around her seemed to separate out of respect, even some of the upperclassmen. They followed Massie into the room, towards us. Something didn't seem right…

"Where's Chris?" I asked, it suddenly dawning on me. Massie cocked her head.

"Somewhere. I'm not his keeper, why should I know?" Thunderclouds appeared in the once serene amber eyes, and before I could utter another word, Massie spun on her heel and stormed out.

"What was that?" I asked in the stunned silence. Alicia answered me.

"Massie dumped Chris." My eyebrows shot up at this particular tidbit of information. Broken up? Really?

"When?" I whispered. Alicia looked nervous.

"Just before we got here. She was texting in the town car. Then she just flipped her phone shut and was like 'We're done. It's official.' and it was like, so out of the blue." Kristen and Dylan nodded in confirmation. I lowered my eyebrows.

"So, who is she her with then?" Alicia shook her head.

"Nobody. She said she could totally do better." Alicia stood up straight and smiled. I turned around to get a better look at what would make her smile so huge.

"Cam! You made it!" With a girly squeal, Alicia ran to him. My eyes widened, and I could taste bile in my throat as Alicia threw her arms around his waist. Pennies were in my own mouth as Alicia pecked Cam on the cheek.

No. Way.


	8. My Homecoming II

**A/N: Special thank you to for Central Park maps, as well as RhiniHeartBreaker.**

**We're at the end of the line here. The last chapter and epilogue. Hope everyone got as much out of this as I did. Stay tuned for more Clique fan fictions.**

**P.S.: To reinforce the meaning of the last two sections, they have a theme song! **_**The Book of Love**_** by Peter Gabriel. Just listen to the song as you read.**

**Disc.: I own nothing you recognize**

**--**

No. Way.

No. Fucking. Way.

But there was no denying the facts set in front of me. Alicia still clung to Cam. While she stood happy, Cam finally caught sight of me, standing dumbstruck. A flash of surprise showed in his eyes, followed by a coldness I was disappointed and hurt to see. Josh, however, did not seem to notice.

My throat felt dry and scratchy, the room suddenly sweltering and too small. I felt trapped, and my breathing came in short sporadic bursts. The same, familiar taste crept into my mouth.

'_No,_' I thought fiercely '_I'm not going to cry in front of _them.' The room began to spin. I turned on my heel and ran, the people a blur, their voices becoming garbled. I pushed through crowds, desperate.

'_No, no, no, no, no.' _Denial was ripe throughout my mind.

'_It can't be true.' _I slipped on the carpeted stairs, only delaying me shortly. The upstairs hallway was much higher, I noted. Doors stood, tall and straight. I threw one open. A startled looking Derrick and Olivia Ryan lay on a bed. Mortified, I mumbled an apology. I closed the door behind me, and sought out another room, the last on the left. I saw it was empty, much to my relief. It was large and spacious, and I assumed it belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Plovert. The bedroom was dark, and feeling with my hands, I sat on the bed. Cradling my head in my hands, tears snaked down my face in tiny rivulets. My make up began to run, blurring and smudging into a gray mess. What a mess my life had become. I alienated the only boy I had actually _liked _in a long time. Where had _that _led me? Nowhere.

I became aware of the sliver of light cast by the door opening. Lowering my hands, the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway was apparent.

"Claire?" Cam's voice. My breath caught in my throat. I watched him cross the threshold of the door of the room towards me. A hand came gently onto my shoulder. Cam's jade green and robin's egg blue eyes latched onto my own. His face was quite close to mine, and I could smell the scent of his Drakkar Noir cologne. He knelt onto the floor, his hand sliding from my shoulder to my arm.

"I'm sorry." I was stunned at his apology. Why would he apologize to me?

"Why are you apologizing?" I whispered. A glowing light, casting a shadow onto the rest of his face, outlined his face.

"Because this is my fault."

"What?" My voice was raspy, almost unintelligible. His head bowed down.

"I shouldn't have listened to you. I should have gone after you." I wiped my tears away from my eyes, shaking my head.

"No," my voice became stronger with every word. "I gave into peer pressure. That stupid 'blacklisting' thing was so immature. If I hadn't listened to what Layne had said, maybe I could have…" I was babbling again. Cam smiled benevolently.

"Claire, people make mistakes. It's what makes us human," Slowly, his thumb wiped across my glistening face. Another followed. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself this one, however small, piece of happiness. I smiled softly. However, I looked at Cam, holding me like this, and asked: "Why are you being so nice to me?" For a long time Cam didn't say a word. Then, slowly, he met my gaze.

"Because I don't think I'm over you."

--

His lips were as soft as I had remembered.

The kiss began to deepen, and I couldn't help but feel how _right _it felt. But a sickening, roiling wave of regret and guilt washed over me. But, as Cam's tongue flicked between my lips, all remaining feelings of regret were banished. I was vaguely aware of falling backwards onto the bed behind me. My dress was pushed up around my thighs, and Cam leaned over me, trailing kisses down my neck, and down to my collarbone. I moaned softly. '_This is wrong._' Some part of me thought, but was silenced by the feel of Cam's fingers knotting themselves in my hair. I closed my eyes and latched onto Cam, bringing him closer. I could feel nothing but bliss.

"What the _fuck_?!" As quick as it had come, my feeling of absolute peace was shattered. I bolted upright off the bed, barely giving Cam any time to scramble off me. Josh's face was dark, anger curling like smoke around his countenance. Alicia stood next to him, leaning against the door, looking, some would say, pleased with herself. Ignoring her, I pulled down my dress. Cam looked guilty, his face red with shame.

"Josh, I can explain, really, I-"

"What," he spat out, looking determinedly _away _from me. "Is there to really explain? Sorry Claire, but I don't really want a play-by-play commentary. I'm outta' here." With a final disgusted look, he swept out of the room. Alicia paused before following him out.

"I expected better from you guys." She shook her head slightly, though I could see she didn't mean much of what she said. She followed Josh out, disappearing around the corner.

--

"Come on ladies! Faster!" Coach Reynolds, in an irate mood, blew into her whistle, punctuating her sentence with an angry 'tweet'. I let out a large breath and tried to catch up with Kristen.

"Hey, Kristen," Each of my words were punctuated with a sigh, gusty breath heaving in and out of me. She glanced at me blandly.

"Hey." There was a surprising absence of emotion. Kristen didn't look at me, only sped up, leaving me behind.

--

"Hey," I was by the water cooler, my bottle in my hand. Kristen bent down, filling her own slowly.

"What was that about? You just left me there." Kristen removed her bottle from the tap, replacing its cap. Her shoulders squared, she looked me in the eyes.

"I know what you did." Terror thrummed throughout my body. Kristen knew?

"What?" I croaked. Kristen's placed her bottle on the edge of the metal bench. Kristen sighed.

"You thought I didn't know." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Well, I-"

"Everyone knows Claire!" Her eyes flashed dangerously. I couldn't look at her accusing eyes. Sweat was beading on the cap of Kristen's bottle. Sitting as precariously as it was, I was sure it would fall.

"_Everyone_. Everyone knows what you did." Hurt replaced the anger in her eyes. In my peripheral vision, a fly landed on the bottle cap, which teetered on the edge of the metal bench. Kristen made a noise of disgust. My eyes locked onto hers, and my stomach lurched.

"Whatever." She walked away from me.

Behind me, I heard the small thud of Kristen's water bottle fall onto the ground.

--

It was dark in my room when the phone rang. I had finished my homework hours ago, and I had only lain on my bed, staring at the ceiling. It was my lowest point. But when my mother had come in to tell me the phone was for me, I had been hoping it would be Kristen.

"Hello?" I mumbled into the phone.

"Claire? It's Cam." I shivered. I swung my legs around until they touched the floor.

"Um, hi…" The awkward silence settled, and I grimaced. This was why I hated talking on the phone.

"Listen, can you meet me at the Turtle Pond? It's by the Met."

"Of course."

--

The sun was setting as I hurried toward the park. Some children were still playing, though most were being hurried and led home by mothers and nannies.

'_By the time I get home, it'll probably be dark.' _I thought to myself as I sat on a bench. The turtles for which the pond was named were swimming in the darkening pool as I waited. After five minutes and no sign of Cam, I took out my cell-phone, ready to send him a text message. As I was typing the message, a sliver of shadow fell across the small, lit up screen. Cam's face bore into my eyes. I stood up quickly, abandoning the message I had been about to send.

"Claire."

_Cam_. Hearing my name spoken by him gave me a thrill. Even though he was in workout shorts and a t-shirt, he still managed to look undeniably _ah_-dorable, to use a Massie-ism.

"Cam, I'm sorry. I am. I really screwed up. I know we've been over this and I'm sick of the drama and-" Cam silenced my rushed speech with a hand.

"Claire, I know you're sorry. But I'm not going to regret what we did. Because, frankly, I don't know why I would."

"I don't want to lose you Claire. Truly and honestly, I think you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. When I heard about you and Josh, I almost lost it. I hated to think I let you leave, or I let you down. And when Alicia asked me to Homecoming with her, the only reason was to be closer to you." I was silent, dumbstruck by his profession. Cam's eyebrows knit together.

"I went overboard didn't I?"

"No!" The words came out with force behind them, surprising even myself. "What I mean is, well, that is to say," I sighed, frustrated. "Oh, fuck it! I'm no good with words." My hands curled into fists.

"There's so much drama in my life. I'm tired of it. I want something uncomplicated, and…I think you're it. You're the only person I _don't _feel awkward around, or feel the need to impress," I encircled my wrist with my hand. "I can just be myself." I became vaguely aware of how much my face was heating up, the blush creeping into my face. Silence hung onto the air between us. But it wasn't the awkward silences I was so used to. It was the type of silence that told you nothing else needed to be said.

"Think we can give it another shot?" Cam's voice broke the silence, penetrating it.

"Definitely."

--

We were sitting on a bench, watching the sun set over the city. My head was resting on Cam's shoulder. He was playing with my hair, smiling.

"I never want to leave." I whispered to him. He smiled, and kissed the top of my head. He fingers clasped mine. I was so happy at that moment.

"I'm glad I have you." I closed my eyes, indulging in the moment.

Who would know what would happen next? What the rest of high school held for me. My future was anything I could imagine. A million different paths were open to me. And if I fell or stumbled, Cam would be there to pick me right back again, walking right beside me. He would always be there.

Always.

**Fin.**

--

Acknowledgments: Thanks to Rhina Lara especially, and everyone who reviewed, favorited, alerted or what have you with this story.

Thank you.


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